


Once Upon A Time

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Kissing, Like a fairytale, M/M, Miscommunication, Talking, crossed wires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7343035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairy stories always have a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lukadreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lukadreaming).



> Written for lukadreaming who gave the prompt “no doubt.”
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2010.

It goes a little something like this.

Ryan is in the armoury, doing an inventory of the team's weapons. He knows he could delegate the task but he'd rather do it himself. For one thing he's not sure about the new guy, Becker, and for another he's not sure about himself either. Last night he made a pass at Stephen. Kissed him. And Stephen didn’t do anything. He didn’t respond to the kiss. Didn't push Ryan away. Was just as impassive as a statue. So Ryan needs to think.

No, what Ryan needs is a drink, he decides, but there's two hours to go on his shift and there is no way he's lucky enough to get home without an anomaly appearing.

Right on cue the detector's alarm goes off and Ryan is turning around, so intent on the next few steps that he fails to pay attention to the ones right in front of him.

“Hi,” Stephen says, hand raised in greeting.

Ryan smacks right into him and backpedals, fast. “Sorry, didn't see you there.”

Stephen nods. “We need to talk,” he says, and it sounds like every shutdown Ryan's ever had. “But later, okay?”

Ryan nods, because what else can he do? He doesn't doubt what Stephen is going to tell him, but he's happy to put it off for as long as possible.

* * * * * *

Or maybe it goes a little like this.

Stephen's drunk. Not out of his face drunk, but there's a buzz in his veins that he recognises as “one more drink and you’ll be falling off the bar stool,” so when Ryan kisses him, that's what he's thinking about. He isn't thinking _finally, why has it taken this long, god Ryan tastes amazing_. That comes later. Not as late as Ryan thinks but later than Stephen does. His brain is addled, soaked through with booze and surprise, so his attempt to reach out and pull Ryan closer is sabotaged by his brains delayed reactions and by the time his fingers are curling, and he's confident he can lean forward without doing a swan dive, Ryan is saying goodnight.

Stephen doubts he'll ever get a chance to make amends, but he can but try.

* * * * *

Then it happens like this.

The mission is a disaster. As they so often are these days. Ryan doesn't know what proportion of their missions are pulled off more by luck than skill, though he suspects if he asked Connor he'd be rewarded with a colourful pie chart in under an hour. But this, this definitely lacked in both.

He was off his game, so he takes as much of the blame as he can. Stephen mans up and admits he made mistakes too, and Ryan wishes the fact that the younger man never shirks his responsibilities wasn't so damn endearing.

But that ship sailed a long time ago.

So Ryan is sitting in the back of an ambulance, his cuts being cleaned, because there is no way that he's going to spend the night in a hospital, no matter how big the dinosaur was that tossed him into a tree, when Stephen approaches him.

“Are you okay?” Stephen says. Ryan looks up, nods, and then concentrates on the paramedic. She's a pretty blonde with a gorgeous smile, but she does absolutely nothing for him.

He glances across at Stephen and thinks by the way he smirks that Stephen knows exactly what is going on. It makes Ryan's heart flutter more than he'd like.

“I'm sorry about...” Stephen waves back at the anomaly site where the others are gathered, Becker de-briefing them as best he can.

It's better than Ryan would have given him credit for actually.

“We all make mistakes,” Ryan says, and if there's an added significance to his words, well, he's entitled, isn't he?

Stephen nods. “Yes. We do.”

And then he walks away and Ryan wonders if he and Stephen were having the same conversation after all.

 

* * * * *

Or maybe it happens like this.

There's a horrifying crunching sound as Ryan is flung through the air and hits a tree. It looks like he's only winded, though there's blood, enough blood that Stephen winces and prays to a god he doesn't believe in that Ryan is okay.

He reloads his tranq gun and this time the shot is perfect, the dart arching through the air and hitting the dinosaur in its most vulnerable spot, just behind its ear. It doesn't go down straight away, but that's okay, and Ryan's okay, he's moving now, and Stephen allows himself a moment to relax.

“What the hell was that?” Cutter says, seemingly to no one in particular. Stephen and Ryan both take the blame at the same time, and Stephen tries to smile at Ryan. But Ryan's talking to Becker and Stephen's not sure if he saw or not. But it doesn't matter. Stephen will talk to him soon.

First he talks to Becker and is impressed despite himself. He wanted to hate the new addition to the team, but maybe he'll be useful after all. But his thoughts aren't really there and so he slips off as the ambulance arrives, wanting to make sure that Ryan is okay for himself.  
  
Ryan is getting his cuts cleaned. Stephen knows that he won't go to a hospital, but maybe he can offer to take him home, talk on the way.

Ryan seems to be avoiding his eyes though, looking at the paramedic, pretty but most definitely not Ryan’s type, instead of looking at him.

He takes another step forward, asks if Ryan's okay, apologises again. He really doesn't know what happened, why his fingers froze as the dinosaur changed direction, as it veered straight for Ryan.

Okay, yes he does know. It doesn't make it any easier for him to function.

It's at that exact moment he realises he's been in love with Ryan for months.

But Ryan clearly doesn’t feel the same, despite the non-kiss they shared. Stephen hears the words mistake and agrees. He's made plenty, is making them now. Thinking that Ryan could possibly feel the same way. Thinking that a kiss was the start of something instead of the end.

He walks away and doesn't turn around.

* * * * *

It goes down like this.

Ryan is hiding in the corner of the pub. He told himself at first that he really just wanted some peace and quiet. But no, he's hiding.

Stephen is sitting with Cutter and they're having a somewhat heated debate. Ryan can't hear what it's about but Abby and Connor are laughing and Stephen's smiling, so whatever it is it isn't serious. And Cutter's not looked that animated in months, so Ryan supposes that's a good thing. When Ryan sees Stephen wink at Connor he realises that it's all been a put up job and he sighs. Stephen's good at that, presenting one thing when he really means another. Makes him hard to read.

Ryan had assumed he was one of the few that Stephen let in.

“You know what they saw about people who assume things,” he mutters into his beer.

“Does that make me the ass or you?” Stephen asks.

Ryan spits out his beer and then wipes his face with the back of his hand. He forgets, sometimes, just how quiet Stephen can be. He'd have made a great soldier.

“Is this seat taken?” Stephen asks. He sits down before Ryan can reply.

Stephen isn’t drinking, Ryan notes. It's not the only thing he notices – like the way the shadows play against the fine layer of stubble on Stephen's chin, how his shirt is open enough that Ryan can make out a smattering of chest hair, like the way Stephen's smile is just a little unsure – but it's the only thing he lets himself concentrate on.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, because that's clearly what's expected of him.

“No, thanks,” Stephen says, a little sadly to Ryan's ears. “I don't do my best thinking when I've had a drink.”

“Who does?”

Stephen stiffens slightly but carries on regardless. “Were you...not yourself, the other night?” he asks. Ryan looks at him for a long beat, but Stephen's face is unreadable. A blank canvas. And he doesn't know what to say. This isn't territory he's used to. This is the thin line between want and need, desire and hope. He's never been any good at traversing it and age has not brought wisdom.

Stephen's staring at him, biting at his lower lip and Ryan is paralysed by thoughts of what could go wrong if they did this, if they took the next step. If he took the next step.

* * * * * *

Actually, it happens like this.

Stephen knows where Ryan is. He always knows where Ryan is, just like he always knows where Cutter is. It's become ingrained, something he no longer thinks about, but he's always kept the people he cares most about in his periphery, no matter what he might be doing. That the circle of those he cares about is starting to expand, well, that's something he'll ponder at a later date. Right now, he wants Ryan.

He's deliberately baiting Cutter, getting him to discuss some obscure evolutionary detail because the other man is looking far too serious and Jenny will never put up with him if he doesn't remember how to smile. He thinks it's working and Connor is looking delightfully amused as he excuses himself and heads for Ryan.

It's different today, he's only been drinking water, his head is clear. His heart might be beating ten to the dozen, but it so often does when he's in Ryan’s presence that it barely registers any more.

If nothing else he'd like to keep Ryan as a friend, if the kiss _was_ a mistake he doesn't want to lose someone else. But he's been thinking about it, about Ryan, all day. He's been thinking how time slows down when he's been drinking, about all the reasons he doesn't drink, about that look, that look of devastation on Ryan's face as he'd turned away. It hadn't been till he'd been sitting down with the others tonight that he'd remembered seeing it, a fleeting presence in the mirror above the bar. A haunting presence.

He feels a little like he's dreaming, or the hero in a story about to slay a dragon. Only he's no hero and the only dragons here are of his own breeding. And Ryan is definitely nobody's princess.

He sits because Ryan will tell him to leave otherwise. He tells Ryan that he's not drinking and he waits because Ryan's a smart man and he'll figure it out. He waits because he has nothing to lose, except everything he's never had.

Ryan's smile is cautious. He takes a sip of his beer. He puts it aside slowly. He looks at Stephen and Stephen waits, not sure what his face is doing, afraid to relax.

“I kissed you,” Ryan says finally, and for an opening gambit it's pretty poor but Stephen's smile is worth it.

“And I was a little slow on the uptake. Sorry.”

Ryan nods thoughtfully. “And if I did it again?”

Stephen scoots closer to the other man. “Try me”.

Two words and all doubt is evaporated. Ryan's fingers find Stephen's, their foreheads touch, their eyes say everything words never could.

There's a happy ending waiting for them, if they want it.

 

* * * * * *

But really, it happens like this.

Two men meet and fall in love. There are obstacles and battles fought and challenges overcome and dinosaurs slain, but eventually their faith in each other is rewarded and they both live happily ever after.

The End.


End file.
